Journey from Childhood
by Jerusha ferch Rhys
Summary: It is said that all good things must come to an end; so too, must carefree childhood.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – The Tempest

_Tehryn Keep_

_Barony of Tehryn_

_December, 1131_

Jäna de Tehryn stood sullenly just inside the door of her brothers' room. She watched as Lady Amah folded shirts and breeches and placed them neatly into the two small chests on the floor at the foot of the bed her twin brothers shared. As the triplet daughter, she had shared that bed too, until she turned four. Then Papa and Amah had decided she should have her own separate room, as befitted a young lady. That first night alone had been scary: strange noises, an owl hooting in the tree outside her window, and the intense dark that she thought would never turn into dawn. Then Papa had come in and lifted down her carved wooden cat from its new shelf above the bed and tucked it in beside her for company. She still slept with her wooden cat sometimes, even though she was now almost seven years old.

Lady Amah straightened after packing the last of the shirts and rubbed the small of her back. Although the December morning was mild, it was chilly in the boys' room. She hoped Jäna had finished her own packing, and they could withdraw to the warmth of the solar for a while. As she turned to look at the girl in the doorway, she knew it was not to be.

Jäna's normally pretty, pert face was drawn into a scowl, softened only slightly by wisps of deep auburn hair that escaped the usually neat braids. Amah chided herself for not taking more time with them this morning, but she had so much to do before Baron Jerrill and his children left Tehryn for Christmas Court in Rhemuth.

"You haven't finished your packing, have you Jäna?"

"No I haven't," Jäna replied, pointing her small finger at the two chests. "I don't have one of those!"

Amah sighed, her normally considerable patience draining swiftly away. "You don't need a chest, child; the saddle bags are big enough for everything you need for Court. We have already discussed this."

Jäna stood, watching as Amah firmly closed the lids of the chests. Each lid was painted with the Tehryn golden wyvern on its sable ground. Jared's bore the three points of the eldest son; Justin's bore the crescent of the second son, born fifteen minutes after his brother.

"I want one! I NEED one! I don't want to come back home!" Jäna's emerald eyes glared at the woman standing across from her and then she turned and fled from the room.

"You had best be packing your clothes!" Amah called after her, her voice much sharper than she intended. At least Jäna wasn't strong enough yet to slam her chamber door. Amah startled in spite of herself at the sound the heavy wood door striking its frame. She would have to check Jäna's training controls before the children left for Rhemuth. Jäna was too distraught to rely on the level of Deryni discretion the old woman had previously set.

Lady Amah Furstán d'Arjenol sat on the edge of the bed, drawing her black shawl closer around her shoulders and looking out the window at the bare trees. She felt a bit like the bare trees herself. Two of her precious leaves were about to leave her, and her only remaining leaf was struggling to separate, too.

Jared and Justin de Tehryn would not be returning to Tehryn after Christmas Court. They would be pledged as royal pages and begin their tutelage under Prince Nigel Haldane, the start of their journey to manhood and hopefully on to knighthood. Amah smiled; she had no doubt they would earn the accolade. They were Tehryn sons! She remembered how proud their mother had been when their older brother had been knighted so many years before. Anya de Tehryn would not see these sons knighted, for she had died shortly after they were born. But she would still be proud; so would their elder brother, who had died serving Prince Nigel.

Had she really expected Jäna to meekly accept the coming separation? Spirited Jäna, who had spent her whole life beside her brothers, determined that she could do everything they could do and just as well? Jared and Justin had never failed to ensure that she did, carefully concealing any allowances they made for her smaller size. It had remained uncertain for her first year whether Jäna would survive the difficult birth that had claimed her mother's life, and both Amah and Baron Jerrill had indulged her as she finally grew stronger and thrived.

Amah wanted very much to hang on to her remaining leaf. She stood and rubbed at the dull ache behind her temples. Well into her fifth decade of life, perhaps she wasn't as patient as she once was. Jäna needed calm, firm reassurance, not shouts. She sighed and glanced once more at the two closed chests. It wasn't easy for any of them.

Lady Amah left the boys' room and made her way along the corridor to Jäna's chamber. It was a smaller room, located in the corner formed by the south and west walls of the fortified manor house. It was a smaller room, but well lighted by windows in both the outer walls. The heavy door was ajar as Amah approached; she tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open.

The two saddle bags that Jäna was supposed to be packing lay dumped on the floor, one flat and empty and the other spilling its contents to the side. The pretty green gown they had worked on for Twelfth Night was in a heap on the floor against the opposite wall, likely thrown across the room.

_"Jäna!" _Amah called, truly angry now, but there was no answer. This was inexcusable behaviour, and there would be consequences! Frowning, Amah considered where Jäna could have gone. Jared and Justin would be in the training yard, having a final lesson in swordsmanship with Sir Aaron, Baron Jerrill's aged swordmaster. Entering farther into the room, she spotted the blue gown Jäna had been wearing on the bed. She had no doubt now that she would find Jäna in the yard, seeking her brothers for comfort. They were just about the only ones who had not had a sharp word for her as she became increasingly difficult the closer the date for departure came.

Amah turned abruptly from the room to find her wayward charge, vaguely troubled by the fleeting thought that almost everyone in this household was "aged" except for the triplets.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – The Final Battle

_The Practice Yard_

_Tehryn Keep_

_Barony of Tehryn_

_December, 1131_

Justin de Tehryn watched his sister warily. He had blocked her last thrust and had almost trapped her wooden practice sword, but she had twisted at the last moment and slipped away. He was taller and stronger than his sister, with a longer reach. He was also already tired from training for the last hour with his brother under the watchful eye of Sir Aaron. Jäna was fresh and determined, holding her sword corrie-fisted, circling to his right, ready to take any advantage, always tricky and quick…

Justin dove away from her upward thrust, knocking her sword aside but almost slipped in his recovery on a patch of frost that had not yet melted. Jäna drove forward to press the advantage, not seeing the sudden look of warning on Sir Aaron's face.

Jared, standing far enough behind his sister to be safe, saw it and quickly moved forward, catching her around the waist from behind and lifting her off her feet.

"Jared!" she yelled. "That's not fair!" Jäna slammed the flat of her sword against his leg, forcing a yelp of pain but no release from his grip.

_"Amah!"_ he warned, almost eye to eye with her as she attempted to twist and face him. Her eyes widened as she looked across his shoulder at the woman in black, dark eyes narrowed and standing very still at the entrance to the yard.

For a long moment, no one moved. Lady Amah Furstán d'Arjenol studied the tableaux before her. Jared stood still gripping his sister, dark auburn hair tousled and green eyes looking at her cautiously. The homespun tunic he wore for practice showed streaks of dirt from falls or deliberate rolls on the hard ground. He had shoved his practice sword under his belt so he could grab his sister with his right arm.

His sister's head was still beside his, a feminine reflection of his own, many loosened strands of identical dark auburn hair falling across her face. For propriety's sake her tunic was longer, reaching to just above the ankles of the sturdy boots she wore. Amah had objected to the tunic as encouragement of an activity it was time for Jäna to set aside, but Baron Jerrill had pointed out that it was exactly this kind of activity that had made Jäna strong. He also thought it was good for the boys to practice occasionally against a left-handed opponent. Amah had not objected further but declined to visit the practice yard thenceforth.

Justin stood rooted where he was, mirror image to his brother, sword levelled to parry whatever Jäna had intended. He had moved only enough to recover his footing. His eyes glanced from Amah to his brother and back again.

Old Sir Aaron broke the silence, coming forward from where he had stood equally frozen and bowing to Lady Amah. "I believe we are finished for the day, Master Jared," he said quietly as he began to take possession of the practice swords. "You may want to set Lady Jäna down now, lad, before she starts to squirm."

Hastily Jared set Jäna down on her feet, took a deep breath and bowed to the woman who had acted in his mother's stead for all of his life. She had that inscrutable look on her face that made it impossible to guess what she was thinking, with or without her shields in place. Brother and sister followed suit and waited. His father had often called it the "Torenthi look;" it was wise to proceed with caution, but even better to retreat.

"Jäna," Amah said firmly. "You will come with me back to your room. You two," she fixed each of the twins with a cold stare, "will continue on with your duties." She fixed her stare on Sir Aaron. "We are indeed finished here for the day, Sir."

She turned and waited for Jäna to join her on the prisoner's march back to the girl's chamber. Jared squeezed his sister's hand before he stepped aside to let her pass. Instinctively, without realizing he had done it, he had edged slightly in front of his sister, putting himself between the two, even though he knew how dearly the older woman loved them. Amah was careful not to let her approval show.

"Do you think we should warn Papa?" Justin asked quietly as he moved up beside his brother.

"T'would not be a bad idea, Master Justin," the swordmaster replied. "It never hurts to take precautions. You will likely find him at the stables, checking on the horses for the trip tomorrow. " He held all three wooden swords in one large hand. "I'll put these away."

Sir Aaron Meachen watched as the boys hurried off toward the stables, his thoughts turning inward as he realized how long he had been the swordmaster at Tehryn Keep. He had known Jerrill de Tehryn since they had served together as squires to the Baron's father. As part of the Tehryn levies, he had campaigned alongside Jerrill as fledgling knight and later lieutenant after Jerrill had succeeded his father as baron. When the baron's first son was old enough to begin his training, Aaron had accepted the post of swordmaster, instructing the boy as he grew from page, to squire, then knight at his father's side. He had been with young Sir Jayce that fateful day at Jennan Vale, and he had brought the letter back to Tehryn from Prince Nigel, advising Baron Jerrill of his son's death.

Sir Aaron smiled to himself as he walked toward the armoury at the side of the yard. Jerrill had needed a new heir, but he had not counted on three exuberant, energetic children coming all at once. The boys had been handful enough, feeding off each other's enthusiasm and each determined to out-do the other. Then there was Jäna, standing beside her father at that very first practice, reaching up to pull at his sleeve and ask where her sword was. She had one the next day.

She was a determined little sprite. He had only known her to cry once; Jared had cracked her across the knuckles and then tripped her. She hadn't been hurt but had burst into tears because she had lost. Damn near broke his heart to see her cry so. After a nod from Lord Jerrill, he had picked her up, set her on her feet and told her to try again. Jared had dropped his guard just long enough to allow her to strike a good blow. He had that bruise for least a week. Afterwards, Sir Aaron and Jerrill had agreed privately that most of the boys' sword training would be without Jäna, but she could join them occasionally, when the boys were already tired.

The old swordmaster entered the armoury. He would not have the privilege of training them beyond today. They would leave tomorrow for Rhemuth, and he would retire to a comfortable home in the village. He paused before the rack that normally held the triplets' swords. There were only two notches, but one was cut deeper than the other so that Jäna's sword sat neatly behind it, out of sight. Lady Amah had no reason to come into the armoury, but one never knew. He did not slide the small swords into the rack, but instead opened a chest in the corner. Propping the swords against the chest, he withdrew a cloth bundle. Carefully, he unwrapped it to reveal another wooden training sword. Sir Aaron added the triplets' swords beside it, re-wrapped the bundle and replaced it in the chest. After a long moment, he resolutely closed the lid.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – The Peace Offering

_Tehryn Keep_

_Barony of Tehryn_

_December, 1131_

Baron Jerrill de Tehryn looked around the table at his family and sighed. He had planned that they would dine quietly, this last night before they left for Rhemuth, in the solar. A perfect chance to reminisce. His blue eyes, as clear and sharp as ever even though he was well into his sixties, were not twinkling with their usual good humour. The fire burning in the hearth provided welcome warmth and the sideboard was set with many of the triplets' favourite foods, waiting to be served by his manservant. Amah sat across from him at the other end of the table, gowned in her usual black, quietly serene. The boys sat along the left side of the table, freshly scrubbed from their training and other duties Jerrill had laid out to keep them occupied. The right side of the table, where his daughter normally sat to avoid any right-hand versus left-hand conflicts with her brothers, was empty.

"I really don't think it was necessary to exclude Jäna," he said, his full, iron-grey beard bristling as he spoke.

"My lord," Lady Amah replied with unusual formality, "Jäna needs to understand that actions have consequences. It is better she learns the lesson sooner than later."

"Later would have suited me just fine. Master Cooke worked hard to fix the pheasant just the way she likes it."

"Jerrill," Amah replied shaking her head. "I don't intend that Jäna should starve. She'll have the same food, but by herself in her room."

"I intended this to be a nice family meal. With ALL of the family!"

Lady Amah remained silent, wisely saying nothing more. The boys fidgeted on their bench. Meals were always a jolly affair, unless someone was ill. Baron Jerrill always insisted that no battles were to be fought during meals. He looked ready to start one now, though.

"Papa," Justin said, sitting up straighter with sudden inspiration. "Pages are trained to serve at table, are they not?"

Jerrill turned to look at his son. "Yes, they are."

"Then we should start now, Papa. Jared and I could serve Jäna her food in her room."

"I don't think…," Amah began.

"That's an excellent idea! Wallace," the baron looked to his manservant standing ready by the sideboard, "will give you a hand. As you stated, Amah, learning is better sooner than later!"

Before Amah could voice further protest, the boys were up and accepting washbasin, towel and trencher as Wallace wisely followed with the goblet and wine flask.

It wasn't long before they returned empty-handed. Wallace gave each boy a serving dish and again followed, this time with the carefully prepared pheasant. Jared returned for the plate of mince tarts and again withdrew.

Lady Amah gave Jerrill a sharp look. "They are bringing the food back, I hope?"

"Of course they are, but perhaps I should check. Maybe they spilled something." Baron Jerrill pushed back his chair and quickly left the solar.

Lady Amah sat quietly in her chair, alone in the room. At least the washbasin should have been returned by now. Jerrill had jumped a little too readily at Justin's suggestion. This would not be the first time she had been out-manoeuvred. Pursing her lips tighter, she rose to follow where the others had gone. Part way there, she met Wallace returning, again empty handed.

The door to Jäna's room stood wide open; Amah stopped just inside and folded her arms across her chest, not quite glaring, but certainly not pleased. She should have known.

A blanket had been spread over the floor. Jäna sat cross legged beside it, her trencher and goblet set before her. Jerrill sat across from her, lifting his hands from the washbasin Justin held and accepting the towel Jared offered him. Jäna hesitated for a moment, then rose and offered a graceful curtsey. The boys bowed.

"Amah, good of you to join us," Baron Jerrill said with a smile. "I've sent Wallace to fetch the rest of the trenchers."

"I believe I suggested Jäna should eat alone in her room," Amah stated, avoiding a direct assault.

"True, but by the time the food had been returned, and we were all settled again, the pheasant would have been cold," Jerrill replied, trying a logistical manoeuvre.

"I am sorry, Amah. I have been behaving badly." Jäna, still standing, looked contrite. Her eyes were still red from crying. The perfect peace offering, brilliantly played.

Jared brought over a cushion from the bench at the end of Jäna's bed and placed it at the edge of the blanket, beside his father. "If it please you, my lady, will you join us at table?" he asked with a formal bow and then offered his hand to assist her to sit.

Lady Amah looked for a moment at Jerrill and then accepted the boy's hand to sit. Justin brought over the washbasin and Amah carefully rinsed her hands while Jared stood ready with the towel.

The good humour had returned to Baron Jerrill's eyes as the boys, assisted by Wallace, served the meal. No battles at dinner was his rule, but the occasional skirmish was another matter. He sliced the finest pieces of the pheasant and nudged them to Amah's side of the shared trencher. A little additional good will never hurt.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Jayce tried to ride my warhorse?" Jerrill began as he reached for a glazed carrot.

"No, Papa!"

"Do you mean old Goliath that you rode in the Mearan campaign?"

"No Papa, you never told us that story!"

"Well," the baron smiled as he settled in to his meal and his story. "It was a fine spring day…."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – The Magnificent Banner

_Rhemuth Castle_

_Duchy of Haldane_

_December, 1131_

Jäna de Tehryn stood not quite in the centre of Rhemuth Castle's great hall, the hood of her little brown travel cloak thrown back, oblivious to everything but the magnificent tapestry that hung above the main fireplace. She had arrived with her father and brothers early in the afternoon and as usual, she wanted to see everything all at once. Baron Jerrill had stopped in front of the main fireplace, knowing that her attention would immediately be drawn to the scarlet tapestry. Baron Jerrill had indulged her fascination for a short while and then had directed that they should move on. Recognizing an old friend, he had quickly moved off to exchange greetings, not realizing that Jäna had not followed him. And Jäna had not yet noticed that he was no longer there.

Instead she stood enraptured by the tapestry before her. The Golden Lion of Gwynedd, glittering with gold and jewels in the afternoon sunlight, almost seemed alive against the scarlet velvet background. She didn't notice the glances, some amused and some annoyed, as people stepped aside to avoid her.

Lord Alaric Morgan, Duke of Corwyn, stood watching from a short distance away. Still in his black riding leathers after a late morning ride with the king, he was in no great hurry to return to his rooms in the castle, content for the moment to observe the bustle in the great hall. He recognized the small, auburn-haired girl, remembering her from an encounter in a carver's shop in Rhemuth a few years previously. He had been shopping for a Twelfth Night gift for his son, and she had been searching for her own birthday present.

His eyes followed her gaze to the tapestry. He remembered the impression the great banner of Gwynedd had made on him when he first came to Court to be a royal page. Whenever he returned to Rhemuth after a long absence, he still took a moment to admire the tapestry that dominated the great hall. Nevertheless, the crowd was growing as more of Gwynedd's nobility arrived for Kelson's Twelfth Night Court, and it looked to be a good time to rescue the fair maiden before she could be trampled under someone's hasty foot.

Morgan casually walked over beside her, and said quietly, "It's magnificent, isn't it?"

Startled, Jäna looked up at the tall, blond man beside her in his black attire. She turned, made a graceful curtsey and replied, "Yes, Your Grace. It must have taken forever to weave." She remembered who he was; even at her young age, one did not forget the Duke of Corwyn.

"Eight years, if I remember correctly. It was crafted by many Kheldish weavers and Concaradine artisans." Morgan bent a little closer and asked, "Are you lost, Lady Jäna?"

"Oh no, Your Grace," Jäna replied with a little shake of her head. "I'm right here."

"So you are." Morgan tried not to smile too broadly. "Is your father lost?"

Jäna turned to look around her, suddenly realizing her father was not in sight in the huge hall. Jäna looked thoughtful for a moment, then confidently replied, "Oh no, Your Grace. Papa always knows exactly where he is."

Morgan chuckled. "I expect he does. Shall we go find him?"

"I think we should, Your Grace," she said, concern spreading across her face. "He'll be very worried if he thinks he has lost me somewhere."

"I'm sure he will be, but he probably hasn't gone too far…."

"Jäna!"

Morgan stopped mid-sentence as a young woman hurried towards them. She was of average height and average comeliness, with brown hair caught in a single braid behind her and travel clothes similar to Jäna's. She careened to a stop and curtseyed deeply, catching her breath before saying, "Beg pardon, Your Grace. I am so sorry Jäna has been disturbing you."

"I am not the least bit disturbed," the Duke of Corwyn responded dryly. "We were admiring the banner of Gwynedd." He noticed a slight wrinkling of Jäna's nose at the woman's arrival.

Lady Livia Gaston had accompanied the de Tehryn family to Gwynedd as a female companion to Jäna in place of Lady Amah, who had not felt well enough to make the winter journey. She was the granddaughter of one of Baron Jerrill's knights, just turned sixteen and more interested in the coming court festivities and potential suitors than looking after the baron's daughter. She had been so anxious to change from her travel gown into something more suitable that she had neglected to notice that her charge was missing. Baron Jerrill's sharp command to "find her NOW!" had sent her scurrying back through the great hall in near panic.

"Jäna, you will come with me right now!" She grabbed the small girl's hand and all but forced her into a second curtsey beside her as she again apologized for the interruption of Morgan's day and all but dragged Jäna away. "Your father was furious when he realized you weren't with your brothers!"

Alaric Morgan's brow furrowed as he watched the young woman lead the girl away. Normally he would not interfere with the running of another man's household, but he was not comfortable with what he was seeing. He was saved from further deliberation when Baron Jerrill appeared, scooped his small daughter into his arms and hugged her tightly. She said something to him, and he turned in Morgan's direction with a slight bow of gratitude. Morgan nodded in acknowledgment and noted that when de Tehryn set her back down, he ensured his daughter had a brother on either side as they again left the great hall, leaving the young maiden to follow behind. All seemed to be in order, but he made a mental note to mention the incident to Richenda, who would likely pass it along to Duchess Meraude.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - The Rites of Passage

_Rhemuth Castle_

_Duchy of Haldane_

_Twelfth Night, 1132_

Baron Jerrill de Tehryn stood at the side of the great hall, part of a larger group of nobles waiting for the signal to send their sons forward to be pledged as Prince Nigel's latest flock of royal pages. There were nine boys waiting with their fathers or sponsors, two of which were his own. They stood a little away from him, inching forward to better see the activity at the high table. Lady Amah had taken great care with their matching sable tunics adorned with the golden Tehryn wyvern on the front, worn over black hose and shoes. Their collar-length, auburn hair would be trimmed to the traditional page's short bowl cut sometime in the next few days; Jerrill suspected they would be even harder to tell apart once that was done.

Their shadow stood between them, half a head shorter in an emerald green gown, her auburn braids tied with matching emerald ribbons. Jerrill had intending to leave Jäna farther down the hall with Lady Livia, but Jäna had managed to slip away and come forward with them. Perhaps it was better that she stayed beside him when the boys were called forward. Maybe it would make it easier.

Graham MacEwan, Duke of Claibourne and hereditary Lord Marshall of Gwynedd, looked to Prince Nigel and then with a slight bow withdrew from the high table and began to move toward the waiting group. Baron Jerrill tugged at his own sable court robe to ensure the wyvern was correctly aligned as the duke approached. Lady Amah had let the robe out a bit this year, much to Jerrill's consternation, but he was sure that a few good practices with his broadsword would eliminate that small embarrassment in the spring. He was not an especially tall man, but the barrel-chested old soldier still commanded respect. King Donal Blaine had called him the "Bear of Tehryn" for very good reasons.

As Duke Graham stopped before them, they all bowed, except for Jäna, who dropped into a graceful curtsey. The duke had the young boys line up two by two, with the ninth, the oldest, standing alone at the end. Jared and Justin turned for a last look at their father, nervous yet excited at the same time. Jerrill smiled and nodded, and the boys turned to face front again as Duke Graham moved forward, the boys beginning to follow, two at a time.

Jäna hesitated for a brief moment and then moved forward to fill the empty spot beside the last boy at the end of the line. The Baron of Tehryn quickly intercepted his daughter, catching her firmly by each shoulder and moving her resolutely back with him. Jäna folded her arms across her chest and stood looking like a small thunder cloud, uncertain whether to release a bolt of angry lightning or a torrent of tears. One of the knights standing nearby started to chuckle, but quickly fell silent after a sharp look from the old baron.

_"Not this time, Jäna,"_ Jerrill said quietly.

_"But there was a spot left for me, Papa!"_

_"We have to let them go, Kitten. It's time." _

Jäna stood in front of him, his hands gentle on her shoulders, refusing to shed the threatening tears and embarrass her father or brothers further. So she watched silently as Jared, Justin, and the other boys bowed before the king and then knelt and recited their page's pledge as a group. Each stood as his name was called and stepped forward a pace for Prince Nigel to place the new page's tabard over his tunic. Each boy then bowed again and stepped back into the line, remaining standing until the ceremony was complete. At Duke Graham's signal, they all bowed together one final time and then followed the duke from the dais.

Duke Graham returned to the dais followed by the boys to be promoted to squires. In spite of her misery, Jäna watched with growing interest, and by the time each young man due to receive the accolade of knighthood was brought forward by his sponsor, she was focused on the unfolding ceremony. She watched closely as they received their spurs, were dubbed by sword and rose to receive their white belt, finishing with the oath of fealty. She began to take comfort in the fact that one day, she would see her brothers knighted in the same ceremony, maybe by the king himself. But first they had to be pages, starting tonight.

She looked up at her father and nodded; he smiled down at her and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, knowing she now understood.

###

Jerrill de Tehryn stood scanning the crowd in the great hall, holding his daughter's small hand. Men in brightly coloured court robes stood talking to acquaintances or those they wanted to become acquainted with, many with their equally resplendent ladies by their sides. Servants scurried to move aside the tables and benches to make room for the dancing that would shortly begin. Jerrill scanned the hall again, but the woman he was looking for was nowhere to be seen.

"Hell's teeth," the old baron muttered tersely under his breath and then looked apologetically down at his daughter. "Beg pardon, Kitten. Where was Lady Livia when you left her?"

Jäna looked across the crowded hall. "Over there, Papa," she replied, sweeping her left hand vaguely in the general direction of the far wall.

Jerrill sighed. He needed to have a brief conversation with Prince Nigel before it became impossible due to the musicians and the increasing din of the celebrating crowd. He spotted a bench set against the wall and led Jäna over to it. With his free hand he indicated she should sit and Jäna did so, carefully arranging the folds of her gown to her liking.

"You stay right here, Jäna, until I return. Do NOT get up from this bench," he said firmly, "no matter how interesting something or someone looks."

"Yes, Papa, I will stay right here," she assured him, her green eyes solemn, knowing he would know if she was not completely truthful.

"That's my girl," Jerrill said with a smile. "I'll be back before Their Majesties lead the first dance."

Jäna watched him thread his way through the hall, having to stop occasionally to respond to a greeting before moving onward again. There were so many people! They formed in small knots, talked for a short while, then moved on to form another knot. She heard snatches of their conversations as they moved along, oblivious to the girl perched on the bench. Not everyone was dressed in fine court robes; some were dressed in more serviceable tunics and hosen, passing through the hall to stop briefly to exchange bits of information with their lords or on other errands. One of these men looked directly at her for a long moment and then moved away. Jäna looked around for her father, hoping he would return soon.

Duncan McLain, Auxiliary Bishop of Rhemuth and Provost of the Basilica of Saint Camber, also noticed the girl in the green gown sitting on the bench. Her father had approached him the day before with an interesting request, one which the Deryni bishop had gladly agreed to.

Duncan tapped his cousin lightly on the shoulder and said, "If you will excuse me, I have noticed a lovely young lady I must acquaint myself with."

"Indeed?" Alaric Morgan replied, raising one blond eyebrow in question. "Giving way to temptation?"

Duncan chuckled and nodded in the direction of the girl on the bench. "No, I think I am safe enough for the moment. But give the lady in question a few more years and I will have to fight my way through a line of suitors!"

"Best take the opportunity now, then. When Briony reaches courting age, the long line of suitors will have to fight their way past me!"

"I will be at your side, cousin, waiting to take their confessions." With a grin, Duncan clapped Morgan on the back and left to move toward the bench.

"May I join you, my lady?" Duncan asked when he reached his destination. The young auburn-haired girl looked up at him in surprise, a look of uncertainty crossing her face. Duncan smiled and waited for her to respond.

Jäna de Tehryn had not been expecting a bishop to approach her bench. She knew she should pay her respects, but her father had told her very explicitly to remain on the bench.

It was Duncan's turn to look mildly surprised as the girl rose to her feet on the bench and curtseyed carefully in place.

"Of course, Your Excellency," she said, remaining standing until he could sit. She accepted his hand to steady herself as she sat back down, this time folding her legs to tuck them neatly under her skirt.

"I saw your brothers pledged as pages earlier," Duncan said to draw the girl into conversation.

"Yes," Jäna replied with a small sigh.

"You are not happy about it?"

"I am happy for them, Your Excellency, but not for me."

"Ah, I see." Duncan looked down at the girl with his most friendly, priestly countenance. "And why are you not happy for yourself?"

"Because they get to have all the fun and adventures. Just think of all they will get to learn!"

Duncan clearly heard the frustration in her voice. "You will have things to learn too, will you not?"

"Oh yes," Jäna said miserably. "Lady Amah is going to teach me needlework."

"That is interesting and useful, is it not? Think of all the skill required to make something like the Haldane banner."

Jäna looked across the hall where the banner hung over the great fireplace. "I know, but…," she looked up, directly meeting his eyes. "Did your father ever tell you a rousing story about needlework?"

Duncan thought carefully for a moment, knowing the likelihood of Duke Jared of Cassan telling his youngest son a story about embroidery was well beyond any possibility.

"No one ever slayed a dragon with a darning needle," Jäna continued firmly. "And no one ever surrounded the enemy with an embroidery frame!"

"I believe you have a point," Duncan answered. He considered her question a moment longer. "There are many other skills you must learn, though. A woman must be able to manage her husband's holdings in his absence. Men can be gone a long time in service to their king."

"Papa is never gone very long, certainly not more than a day or two. When he returns, everything is just the same as he left it."

Duncan smiled. "Have you ever wondered why?"

Jäna looked up at the bishop with growing suspicion. "No, I have not. While Papa is gone, Lady Amah has a look at things from time to time, and everything is fine when Papa returns." Jäna's forehead furrowed as she thought on this further. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"You are trying to tell me that everything is fine because Lady Amah makes sure it is."

Duncan's smile broadened. "Yes, Jäna, that is exactly what I am trying to tell you. It is a very big responsibility. You will have to understand the ledgers, who to send to for supplies, even settle disagreements in your husband's absence."

"It is not the same, Your Excellency."

"No, it is not. But it is more than just needlework, perhaps?"

"I will grant that," Jäna said seriously, "if you will grant that it is not as exciting as being a page."

"That I will grant," Duncan McLain replied, matching her tone. "But give it a chance. I have been a page, and it is not always that exciting. Mostly it is a lot of work!"

"Am I interrupting confession?" Baron Jerrill de Tehryn asked, bowing to the bishop and kissing the amethyst ring when Duncan offered it.

"Papa! No, Bishop Duncan was trying to make me feel better." She smiled up at Duncan, who did his best to look scandalized.

"She has seen right through me, Lord Jerrill. I thought I was being so clever about it, too." Duncan smiled back and winked.

"Never try to outsmart a woman, Bishop Duncan. I gave up years ago." Jerrill helped his daughter down from the bench. "And this one will remind me I promised her a good spot to watch the start of the dancing."

Baron Jerrill bowed again and Jäna gave a confident curtsey. As they turned to leave, Jäna looked back and said excitedly, "Their Majesties will lead the first dance!"

Duncan McLain smiled and thought he probably had just enough time to approach King Kelson and suggest that a little girl in green would appreciate a royal smile if Their Majesties led the dance in her direction.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – The Taste of Magic

_Rhemuth Castle_

_Duchy of Haldane_

_January, 1132_

Baron Jerrill de Tehryn walked with his three children across the castle parklands toward St. Hilary's Basilica. As the bells for Vespers finished tolling, he had suggested a visit to the church within the outer wards of Rhemuth Castle. Mystified, the triplets had willingly bundled up in cloaks and boots without giving much thought to the reason. In these last few days before the baron and his daughter left court to return to Tehryn, the boys, like many of the other younger pages, were allowed to spend the evenings with their families.

The evening was not too cold for this time of year, and the children walked a few paces ahead of their father, hoods thrown back in spite of the lightly falling snow. The new royal pages had had their hair cut that morning into the traditional page's style, and Justin pushed the auburn bangs back from his forehead, only to have them immediately fall neatly back into place. Jared did his best to ignore the change, even though it felt strange and the back of his neck was cold.

Jäna stopped and leaned her head back, looking upward at the grey clouds and falling snow. She stuck out her tongue to catch several snowflakes.

"What do they taste like, Kitten?" her father asked.

After a short moment, she replied, "They taste like magic!"

"They don't have any taste at all," Jared quickly objected, "and they certainly can't taste like magic!"

"How do you know?"

"Because I know!"

"They can taste like whatever Jäna wants them to taste like," Jerrill said mildly, glancing around to see if anyone else had overheard. Magic might not be the death sentence it once was, but it was still better not to be too open about it. There were a few others out after Vespers, intent on their own business and not paying attention to the small family making their way through the snow. Jerrill noted only one man close enough to have heard, but he sensed no hostility aimed in their direction.

"Jäna should have them taste like sweet cakes then, or maybe candied ginger," Justin declared. "That would be much better."

They were now at the Basilica steps, and Jerrill reminded them to keep their voices respectful as they climbed up to the door. They paused under the porch long enough to stamp the snow from their boots and shake out their cloaks before the old baron opened the heavy door and ushered the children inside.

The candles burning in the many wall sconces threw flickering shadows on the statues of saints set into niches along the walls as the family proceeded down the north aisle. Jäna thought it made them seem alive and reached up to grasp her father's hand. Just before the transept, Jerrill steered them though an arched door and let them pause to view the chapel inside.

It was impressive in its simplicity. Here the candles threw shadows against pale grey marble walls devoid of statues. The vaulted dome was far above their heads, and the labyrinth pattern in the tessellated floor drew the children farther inside. They stopped before they reached the center of the chapel, to gaze wide-eyed at the mosaic on the wall above the altar.

"That is Saint Camber," said a familiar voice, "crowning King Cinhil Haldane to start the Restoration."

"Bishop Duncan," Jäna said and curtseyed. Her brothers, standing one on each side, bowed respectfully. Jerrill stopped just behind them, bowing in his turn.

"Just in front of you," Duncan McLain continued, motioning to golden tiles set in the center of the floor, "is the seal of Saint Camber. I think this will be the perfect spot for our little ceremony."

"Ceremony?" Justin asked, turning to look at his father.

His father smiled down at him, but there was a look of wistfulness in his blue eyes. "I have a gift for the three of you. Something to start this next journey in your lives." He pulled a small velvet packet from his belt pouch and handed it to the bishop.

"Lord Jerrill, if you would bring the two kneelers along the wall over to the seal, I think we can easily fit all three together on them." Bishop Duncan took the packet and moved to the altar to make his preparations.

Mystified, the children stepped to one side while their father placed the two kneelers on the seal. Bishop Duncan returned, holding the opened velvet cloth and a silver stoppered vial. He handed the vial to Jerrill and then held out the cloth so the children could see what he had carefully arranged on it.

Three silver medals were laid side by side, each on a silver chain. The children recognized the hooded figure of Saint Camber, and while still in the early stages of learning Latin, they understood the words _Sanctus Camberus, Defensor Hominum_ inscribed below the figure. To the ring at the top of each medal through which the chain passed a second ring had been attached, from which hung a small, tear-drop shaped yellow crystal.

"Papa," Jäna whispered, "are those_ shiral_ crystals like the one Lady Amah wears?"

"Yes, Kitten. The medals were forged from the silver of Tehryn mines, and the _shirals_ came from a river not far from there."

"If the three of you will now kneel," Duncan motioned toward the kneelers, "your father has asked me to bless these here in Saint Camber's Chapel.

The triplets knelt as they were bidden, looking like three auburn-haired angels in the flickering light. Jerrill knew that image wouldn't last long, but it would remain etched in his mind till the end of his days.

_"Kyrie eleison,"_ the bishop began, his voice strong but reverent in the quiet chapel. "O Lord our King…."

He continued through the liturgy, the children and their father attentive to every word. At the appropriate time, he took the vial from the baron and sprinkled holy water on each of the medals. After he concluded the blessing, he slipped the silver chain of the first medal over Jared's head, the second over Justin's, and finally the third over Jäna's, following their birth order. He then blessed each child in turn and did not pause to wonder as the _shiral_ crystal beside each medal glowed briefly as each child was blessed. But Jerrill de Tehryn, standing off to the side, paused and caught his breath at the site of another figure that materialized above Bishop Duncan. The cowled figure bowed his head, spread his hands in benediction over the three small children and then dissolved into nothing.

The ceremony was finished, but for a long moment they stood and kneeled in silence, loath to disturb the feeling of peace within the chapel. Then normalcy returned, with Baron Jerrill thanking the bishop for his indulgence and the children standing to look at their medals more closely, comparing them to confirm they were indeed identical.

"I would advise you keep them tucked inside your tunics," Bishop Duncan said. "And gown," he added quickly with a smile at Jäna.

"Yes," Jerrill added to reinforce the idea. "Best not to encourage unnecessary questions. Thank you again, Your Excellency."

"The honour was mine, Lord Jerrill. I believe this was the first blessing of medals within Saint Camber's Chapel. I hope there will be more to come."

"God grant us the peace for it to be so," Jerrill replied. "But now we should leave you in peace, before my angels turn back into children."

Bishop Duncan chuckled as he acknowledged bows and curtsey. "I doubt that will take long."

Jerrill de Tehryn led his children back through the basilica and out into the courtyard. It had grown colder and the snow was falling harder. He paused to make sure Jäna's cloak was securely fastened and her hood drawn forward. He grasped her hand in his, Justin's on his other side, and started across the courtyard. Jared stayed behind for a moment, tilted his head back and tried to catch a snowflake on his tongue. Successful, he darted after them, keeping the taste of magic to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – The Horrible Day

_De Tehryn Apartments_

_Rhemuth Castle_

_Duchy of Haldane_

_January, 1132_

Baron Jerrill de Tehryn studied the parchment before him, enough light for reading provided by the rack of candles standing at the centre of the wooden table and the fire crackling in the hearth. There were notations in the margins of the accounts he had prepared for his liege lord's review, some written by the Duke of Carthmoor himself and some by one of his many stewards. Overall, Jerrill was pleased with the responses, including the agreement to the proposed repairs to a bridge on the main road leading to Tehryn Keep.

He and Jäna, accompanied by Lady Livia, had had supper in the great hall earlier. The crowd of guests thinned with each passing day since Twelfth Night, and tonight the high table had been almost empty, presided over by the Earl of Rhendall. Jerrill had hoped that he might catch sight of his sons assisting at one of the lower tables, but neither twin had been in the hall. They would be returning to the de Tehryn rooms soon enough, bubbling over with tales of what they had been up to today, whom they had served and what they had learned.

Jäna sat across from him at the table, working on the needlework sampler she had promised Lady Amah she would have finished when they returned to Tehryn. Of course, she had only started on it this afternoon, and judging from the vexed looks that crossed her young face and muttered words he did not try to hear, it was not going well. As he watched the thread snapped, and Jäna dropped the muslin down on the table, none too gently.

"Do you need help, Jäna?" Lady Livia asked from her chair behind Jäna where a second rack of candles provided light.

Jäna took a deep breath before responding, "No, no, I can do it…again." She looked up at her father. "The thread is possessed."

The old baron chuckled, as much at his daughter's explanation as Lady Livia's shocked look. "I think it really just needs a little more practice, Kitten."

"Or I could stab my finger and be done with it," she replied hopefully.

Jerrill was saved from crafting an appropriately encouraging response by the door opening to admit two unhappy young boys.

"It has been a horrible day, Papa," Jared stated, entering first.

"And we are failures!" Justin flung himself down on the stool beside his father, placed his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands. Jäna, alarmed, jumped down from her stool and went to stand beside him, gently putting her hand on his shoulder. Jared pulled her stool over and sat beside her, equally glum.

"Come now, it can't be as bad as all that. Tell me what happened." Jerrill pushed the parchment to one side and gave his full attention to the boys.

Justin looked up, his head still between his hands. "We accidently 'twinned' one of the squires this morning."

"Not the best of ideas," Jerrill commented, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

"We really did not mean to," Jared continued. "He meant to send me to give Earl Derry a response to a message I had delivered earlier, but he asked Justin instead. Jus had no idea what he was talking about, and Coris was not pleased when he had to explain it all again. Then when I showed up a little later, he was expecting the answer, but I did not have it. He was not impressed, and sent me to find Justin to get the answer straight away."

"I did not have the answer, either." Justin took up the story from his point of view. "I got lost, since I never got the directions the first time. I stopped a gentleman to ask where Earl Derry's apartments were. I thought I was respectful, but apparently I did not bow deeply enough. I got an earful about that, as did anyone else nearby!"

"We all have to learn these things," Jerrill said mildly, aware that "gentlemen" were known to make the first few weeks of a page's service as miserable as possible. "You are not the first to make that mistake, and you will not be the last."

"I guess not! I met up with the same man later, and he yelled at me for not remembering to bow properly after he had already told me about it!" Jared's face flushed with the remembered injustice.

"Not the best of days." Jerrill reached for his mug of ale and took a fortifying swallow.

"It got worse." Justin said, finally raising his head from his hands.

"Oh dear," Jäna said sympathetically.

"Prince Nigel sent us to help serve the midday meal, because two of the older pages had been sent off on other errands. We thought it was quite a privilege to be allowed to serve so soon." Jared rested his chin dejectedly in his right hand.

"You do not sound like it was," the old baron said as he sat back in his chair.

"We were each assigned two tables to serve, but the cooks could not tell which of us was which and lost track of what we had served, so much of it went out in the wrong order." Justin looked across at his brother. "At least the border lord was not angry about it. He said the sweet cakes tasted just as good served before the meat pie."

"Border lord?" Jerrill asked. "Who was he?"

"We are not sure," Jared replied. "We did not recognize his tartan. He has a red border braid, though, and a fine moustache."

Jerrill nodded. "That was likely the Duke of Cassan."

Both boys stared at him in shock. "We did not know," Jared said. "No one else took it so well."

"Duke Dhugal is young enough to remember being a page," the old baron said with a smile.

"Prince Nigel was at the high table," Jared said glumly, "and saw all of the confusion."

"Right after the meal was finished we had to report to him in the withdrawing room and explain what had happened. " Justin looked up at his father. "He wanted to know every detail."

"He said he would consider what had happened, and we were to report to him again after we finished the afternoon lessons." Jared sighed. "The lessons passed too quickly."

"I trust you reported right after?"

"Yes, sir. And we bowed very deeply," Jared stated and Justin gave an emphatic nod.

"What did His Highness have to say?" Jerrill was pleased to note that both boys looked at him squarely as they prepared to answer. As he had come to expect, it was Jared who took the lead, already answering with the detail of a page expected to deliver messages exactly as he was told.

"He said he was disappointed that the meal had not been served to the standards he expected of his pages. However, he understood that there was difficulty in telling us apart. He stated that from now on, we were to identify who we were when anyone addressed us, by saying "Jared, sir," or "Justin, sir." Then he dismissed us, saying he expected there would be no further issues and we were to be in the hall to serve in the morning just to make sure."

Baron Jerrill sat back in his chair again, stroking his full beard with one hand as he reviewed what he had been told. Suddenly, Jäna reached across the table and plucked at his sleeve.

"Papa," she said very seriously. "Perhaps I should have a little talk with Prince Nigel."

"No, I think not, Kitten," he quickly replied, both horrified and amused at the thought. "The boys will manage this without your help or mine. They have their marching orders and know what is expected. There's nothing more to do." He looked at each of his sons in turn. "Agreed?"

"Yes, sir," both boys replied.

Jerrill de Tehryn pushed back his chair and stood. "Good. Now I think it is time you were off to bed. You have to be up and ready early."

"Papa, may we have a story first?" Jäna asked.

The old baron nodded in agreement, rubbing his hands together and thinking of a tale from his own days of service as a page that would be just about perfect.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – The Portraits of Kings

_Rhemuth Castle_

_Duchy of Haldane_

_January, 1132_

_"If you make me laugh, I will drop this basin in your lap!"_

Jäna de Tehryn smiled sweetly at her brother as she carefully dried her hands on the towel and then draped it over Jared's arm. He bowed slightly, careful to hold the basin steady and not spill any of the water, and brought the basin forward to his father. Again he bowed slightly and brought the basin closer.

Baron Jerrill nodded his thanks and then rinsed his hands more vigorously than his daughter had, forcing his son to steady the bowl. As he raised his dripping hands from the bowl, the young page shifted enough to bring the towel draped on his arm closer to his father so the old baron could grasp it without dripping more than needed on the floor.

"Neatly done, Jared," Jerrill said with a smile.

"Thank you, My Lord," Jared replied formally and gravely moved on to the next table.

"They are doing very well, Papa?" Jäna asked.

Jerrill looked across to the other side of the hall where Justin was serving similar duty with basin and towel. "It will be better when they stop moving like little wooden soldiers in page's livery, but yes," he responded, "they are doing well."

Jäna smiled and watched the twins as they finished with the last of the guests and left the room under the watchful eyes of one of the senior pages. Most of the guests that had journeyed to Rhemuth for Twelfth Night court had left, though several of the senior members of King Kelson's council still remained and had joined the king and his queen at the high table for the evening meal. Her father had only had to remind her once not to stare at the high table and to eat her portion of the meal. Tomorrow they would be leaving for Tehryn and she wanted to drink in every detail to relate to Lady Amah when they reached home.

"Kitten," Jerrill said, tapping her arm lightly to get her attention. "I have some business to attend to before I retire for the evening. Lady Livia will see you back to our rooms. I won't be late."

"Yes, Papa." Jäna looked across to the next table, where Lady Livia sat in conversation with one of the young Tehryn knights. Lady Livia had spent a lot of time in the company of this particular knight the last couple of days. Jared and Justin had moved to the pages' barracks the night before, and Jäna was in no hurry to spend the rest of the evening alone with Lady Livia.

"Papa," she said with sudden inspiration. "May Lady Livia take me to see the portraits of Gwynedd's kings? You said I could see them before we leave."

The old baron thought for a moment and nodded his agreement. The portraits were hung along the long hallway that linked Rhemuth's great hall with the chapel. "I think that is an excellent idea. There will not be time in the morning." He motioned for Lady Livia, who smiled and curtseyed to the knight before coming to take charge of Jäna.

Jäna was pleased to be allowed to see the portraits and pleased that her father had instructed Livia to make sure she allowed Jäna ample time to study them all. The young knight offered to accompany them as well; Jerrill had no good reason to deny the offer, so he agreed. Jäna thought he would be a good distraction for Livia so she could take her time with the portraits.

They strolled to the end of the great hall, Jäna on one side of Lady Livia and the knight on the other. They were taking longer than Jäna would have preferred, because Livia took the opportunity to make sure other ladies of the court whom they passed noticed the knight escorting her, stopping once or twice to introduce him. Jäna now understood that he was Sir Cecil Duncoate, son of one of her father's landed knights who held a manor in the western part of Tehryn.

Finally they turned right into the hallway, and Jäna had no further interest in the knight. The long hallway was lit by fat candles set in sconces mounted in between the windows on the courtyard side. The portraits were arranged along the opposite wall, the line broken every so often by a heavy wooden door. There was no one else in the hall at the moment; the doors were all closed, and it was too early for anyone to be making their way to the chapel for Compline.

Jäna stopped before the first portrait, a likeness of King Kelson in a crimson robe with the Lion of Gwynedd shining gold across his chest. He was standing straight, his hand resting on a table beside the royal crown that sat in the center. It was a good portrait; it certainly looked like the king with his raven black hair and grey eyes, but the eyes stared blankly above her head at the wall behind her. Except for the exact resemblance, it was nothing like the king she had watched earlier that evening. That king had seemed to enjoy the company around him, talking with those closest to him and very attentive to the queen. He had said something at one point that had caused the Duke of Cassan to burst into laughter and the queen to smile. The king in the portrait was stiff and remote, nothing like the real king. His Majesty needed a better painter!

She moved down to the next portrait, the one of King Brion Haldane. He had the same raven hair and grey eyes, but wore a close-cropped beard. She studied it and decided she liked her father's full beard better. She noticed a large cabochon ruby hanging from the king's right ear. She moved back to King Kelson's portrait and confirmed he wore one, too. Jäna continued down the hall to King Donal Blaine, noting that he also wore a ruby earring. She also noted that Lady Livia and Sir Cecil had slipped into one of the darkened doorways; Jäna would have all the time she needed.

She moved on down the hall, studying kings unfamiliar to her, yet all with the same Haldane style. All had the same ruby earring, and Jäna was now convinced it was the same earring in each portrait. She was almost at the end of the hall now, approaching the chapel. She vaguely noticed the man that entered the hallway from the door near the chapel that granted access from the courtyard. He opened the door next to the last portrait and stepped inside the room. She looked down to the other end of the hall. Lady Livia and her knight were still lingering in the far doorway. When she returned to join them, Jäna would have to decide whether to sneak up on them quietly, or make sure she announced her arrival well before.

Jäna looked at the last portrait. It was King Cinhil, the same king as in the mosaic in Saint Camber's Chapel. The mosaic didn't show the silver hair at his temples that the portrait showed. Jäna thought the eyes were kind, and maybe sad….

"My Lady," said a man's voice very quietly and very near to her ear.

Startled, Jäna looked up into the face of an unfamiliar man.

"My lady," he said again, smiling, but still very quietly. "There are more portraits here." He motioned to the last door that now stood partly open. "Would you like to see them?"

Jäna shook her head no, and quickly turned to return to her escorts, no longer concerned with whether she should surprise them or not.

Jäna had not taken a single step before the man grabbed her from behind, one hand covering her mouth so she could not scream. He pulled her through the open door and into the room beyond, closing the door quietly behind him. He lifted her up, and she kicked at him with her legs. His hand was large and it covered her nose as well as her mouth, making it hard for her to breathe.

"You just relax now, and stop struggling," the man said. "You will make a fine message for the king."

Sir Cecil Duncoate pulled back from the kiss he was enjoying and listened. In spite of the interlude he was enjoying with Livia, he thought he had heard something. "A moment," he said, smiling down at her and turning to look out the doorway and down the hall. He saw no one there, and stepped farther into the hallway.

Lady Livia smoothed her hair and then also stepped forward to look. "She has probably gone into the chapel to have a look in there. She will be out shortly."

"Ah then," Sir Cecil said, pulling the lady back into the doorway. "Let us enjoy the remaining time, then."

_"PAPA!"_

Baron Jerrill de Tehryn stopped in the middle of what he was saying to the man beside him, gave nothing more than a curt nod, turned on his heel and all but ran out of the great hall, his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword.

_"PAPA!"_

Jäna's mental cries had reached her father; they had also reached two bishops, two dukes and a king.

Bishop Denis Arilan, already moving in the general direction of the hall that led to the chapel, reached the entrance just after the old baron. Bishop Duncan McLain, who had been discussing some ideas for the schola with Archbishop Cardiel, turned and hurried after him. Duke Alaric Morgan sprinted past his cousin, and Duke Dhugal MacArdry McLain was catching up. Only the realization that he was needed more to restore calm in the great hall kept King Kelson of Gwynedd in his seat at the high table.

_"PAPA!"_

The cry sounded more desperate now, but Jerrill had reached the chapel end of the hall. He kicked the door open with one booted foot; Jäna's struggles had prevented the man from locking the door behind him. The door swung open, hard enough to bounce against the frame, and the man inside moved back toward the far wall, his left arm wrapped around the still struggling Jäna, his right hand over her mouth. As Jerrill strode inside and stopped to assess the situation, Bishop Arilan slipped inside, moving along the wall to get closer.

The man removed his right hand from Jäna's mouth and reached for his sword. Jäna dug her fingernails into his left hand and wrist, stronger than he would have expected, thanks to her training with her brothers. Startled by the unexpected pain, the man hesitated in his reach….

It was all the opening the Bear of Tehryn needed. He gave his opponent no chance to shift his daughter in front to use her as a shield. He slashed upward with his sword, driving deep into the exposed armpit. The man wore no mail under his tunic and the baron's sword bit deep. The man dropped Jäna to free his left hand to reach for his dagger.

_"ROLL!" _

Jäna rolled as her father commanded and was immediately scooped up by Bishop Arilan, who shifted her as best he could behind him, one hand half-raised to assist if other defenses were needed.

They were not. Baron Jerrill's sword chopped down on the man's wrist with the dagger only half drawn, nearly severing it from his arm. The man collapsed to his knees and then to his side, a pool of blood forming on the ornate rug.

Alaric Morgan re-sheathed his sword and moved forward into the room. "I don't think he will live long for questioning," he said. "I will get what I can." He knelt beside the man, avoiding where the blood continued to soak into the rug, and positioned his fingers on both sides of the man's head at the temples.

The man's eyes widened in fear, but all he could manage was a weak "no" before the eyes became vacant.

The crowd at the door had grown. In addition to Duke Dhugal and Bishop Duncan, Sir Cedric was standing somewhat helplessly in the rear, and Prince Nigel had joined them. He had been with the pages when Jäna had called for help; only the sharpness of his command to her brothers to "STAY PUT!" had kept them where they were.

Baron Jerrill looked across at his daughter, still held protectively by Bishop Arilan. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

Jäna didn't answer; she was looking in morbid fascination at the pool of blood beside the man as Duke Alaric continued his probe.

"Jäna!" Jerrill allowed just enough sharpness in his voice to force her to look at him. "Did he hurt you?"

A slight jostle from the bishop helped to pull her gaze away from the scene on the floor. "No Papa," Jäna said. "You heard me and came."

"There may be a bruise or two," Arilan said. "She hit the floor pretty hard."

"I am all right, Papa. Truly."

"Jerrill," Nigel said, entering the room. "Why don't we send her to Meraude while we deal with this?" He caught sight of Brendan Coris, Morgan's stepson and squire, who had joined the growing crowd in the hallway. "Brendan can escort her back."

Bishop Arilan set Jäna down gently, and Brendan came forward, offering his arm to properly escort her. Jäna set her hand upon it as expected and left the room at his side, Lady Livia joining them outside the door and following meekly behind.

Morgan removed his hands from the fallen man's head and, almost as an afterthought, closed the man's eyes. He began to search the man, going through the man's belt pouch and checking his clothes. He paused to look closer at the left side of the tunic, above the breast.

"Find something?" Bishop Arilan asked.

"It looks like there was a badge removed," Morgan answered, tracing a ragged outline with his fingertip. "It looks like it was hastily done." He unlaced the front of the man's tunic and reached inside, thinking the man may have kept the badge on his person rather than taking the time to dispose of it.

"Got it." Morgan studied the badge for a moment, shook his head and handed the badge up for Prince Nigel to see. "I don't like this, not at all."

Prince Nigel took the badge and looked at it in disbelief. It was the falcon badge of Warin de Grey.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – The End of Childhood

_De Tehryn Apartments_

_Rhemuth Castle_

_Duchy of Haldane_

_January, 1132_

Baron Jerrill de Tehryn sat in his chair before the hearth, staring into the fire, his booted feet propped up on a carved foot stool and a goblet of port in his hand. It wasn't a fine Vesaire port, but he doubted he would have appreciated the finer taste, or even have noticed it. His mind continued to replay the night's events and try to make sense of it all.

With the exception of the falcon badge, they had found nothing of significance among the possessions of the man who had grabbed Jäna. His sword and dagger had been well enough made, but not above ordinary quality. There had been a few coins in his belt pouch and a short string of prayer beads. He also had a flagon of cheap wine strapped to his belt. His tunic had been grey wool as one might expect of someone wearing a de Grey falcon badge. Or who had been wearing one before it was removed, to be more precise.

Jerrill did not presume that the Duke of Corwyn had shared everything he might have gleaned from his Death-Reading of the man, but he knew some of it. Jerrill had been directed to join the debriefing in the king's withdrawing room once the initial investigation of the scene had been completed. Assured that his daughter was safely in the care of Duchess Meraude, he had provided what information he could, precious little that it was, and had been allowed to remain while Morgan gave his initial report. Morgan had revealed that the man had been in the service of Warin during the uprisings in Coroth, had left it when much of Warin's following had disbanded after the defeat of King Wencit, and then had been recruited into service as a messenger by Gareth de Grey, a nephew of Warin, roughly two years ago.

At this point the memories had begun to fade more rapidly than Morgan had expected, and he had focused on why the man had tried to abduct Jäna. Jäna had not been his specific target; he had been told to bring "a likely prospect that would serve as a suitable message to the king" to a specific tavern in Rhemuth. Morgan suspected the plan had been to encourage someone willing to drink enough of the cheap wine to accompany him, but a little girl seemingly alone in the hallway who could be carried out concealed in his cloak had looked easier. The man had also suspected that the girl might be Deryni, which was even better. That piece of information had troubled them all.

It certainly troubled Jerrill, as he sat musing before the fire. The progress King Kelson had made in restoring Deryni rights had emboldened Jerrill to present his triplets with their Saint Camber medals. Unfortunately, the dead man had seen them going to St. Hilary's Basilica, had overheard his daughter's innocent mention of magic, and had decided she might be Deryni. That made her an even better "message for the king" in the man's mind. What that message was to be, they still did not know. Jerrill worried that perhaps his gifts to his children had been a mistake.

King Kelson, of course, was now fully aware they were Deryni. What impact that would have would remain to be seen. Jerrill would now not be leaving with Jäna for Tehryn at first light as he had intended. Kelson had questions he wanted to ask her before they left. His Majesty had decided they could wait until morning and would be asked in the presence of her father and Duchess Meraude, so the young girl would not be overwhelmed by the royal attention. Jerrill also suspected that Kelson wanted to review the situation with Morgan beforehand.

A noise from the doorway to the bed chamber Jäna was sharing with Lady Livia broke the old baron's reverie. Jäna stood in the doorway, her disheveled braids attesting to a restless night. Duchess Meraude had seen to her comfort earlier in the evening, and by the time Jerrill had retrieved his daughter from her care, she had had a warm bath and was enjoying a hot posset of milk with honey beside Princess Eirian. Lady Livia had been escorted back to the deTehryn apartments much earlier; Jerrill had decided to leave the discipline required to Amah Furstán d'Arjenol. He would deal with young Duncoate.

"Not able to sleep, Kitten?" Jerrill asked, and Jäna shook her head. "Bad dreams?"

"Yes, Papa. There was a man standing behind the door, and I kept seeing all that blood."

"Come and sit with me." Jerrill moved to one side of the chair and lifted his arm so his daughter could snuggle beside him. She immediately climbed up, settling her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. "You are safe now, right here with me."

"You came when I called, Papa. You found me."

"I will always find you, Jäna, as long as I still have breath left to me." Jerrill gave her a hug and a kiss on the top of her head.

For a moment Jäna studied the fire and then said quietly, "I was mean to Lady Amah before we left Tehryn."

"Well yes, I suppose you were. It was a difficult time for all of us, and I think Amah understood how upset you were."

Jäna chewed on her lower lip and then looked abruptly up at her father. "Is that why the man tried to take me away?"

Startled, Jerrill saw how very serious she was. "Sweet Jésu, child! Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"It was the only reason I could think of, Papa."

Jerrill hugged her closer, wanting to protect his little daughter as she tried to make sense of the adult world. "We don't know why he did it, Kitten. We are still trying to figure it out, but I do know that it was not because of anything bad you did."

"Will he try to take me again, Papa?"

"No, he will not, "Jerrill replied firmly. "I put an end to him, so he can do you no more harm. King Kelson has also placed a guard outside our door, and Prince Nigel will be sending additional men to travel with us back to Tehryn. You do not need to worry." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "You do need to be more careful."

"Papa?" Jäna asked, looking worried.

"You are not a child anymore, Jäna; you are a young girl now and need to pay closer attention to your own safety. You shouldn't have wandered away from Lady Livia the way you did."

"I did not, Papa! She wandered away from me!" Jäna's green eyes flashed with indignation.

"I know, Kitten. Nevertheless, you should not have put yourself at risk, alone at the far end of the hall. You need to pay attention to your safety."

"I am sorry, Papa. I will try to do better." Jäna looked up at her father solemnly.

"I know you will." Jerrill gave her another hug. "It won't be too many years before you are a young woman, and I will have to worry even more."

"No, Papa," Jäna said with a slight shake of her head. "That is when you will trade me for a good warhorse."

"I will what?" Taken completely aback, Jerrill could only stare at his daughter in amazement.

"That is what Jared said, Papa. He said that once I was a young woman, you would be able to trade me for a good warhorse."

"I think not, Jäna!" Jerrill decided he would have a short discussion with his son before they left Rhemuth.

"Justin said you could probably trade me for two good warhorses. But I think he wanted one for himself."

"Jäna," Jerrill said firmly. "I will not trade you for a whole string of warhorses. I will find you a good, proper husband."

Jäna wrinkled her nose. "Like Sir Cecil?"

"I think not, Kitten! I will find you a much finer man than him."

With an impish smile, Jäna settled in against her father's broad shoulder. She was feeling sleepy now and finally safe. As she started to drift off, she asked, "It will be a very handsome warhorse, Papa?"

"It will be, Kitten," de Tehryn responded with a smile. "It will be the handsomest warhorse in all the Eleven Kingdoms."

With that reassurance, Jäna closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Jerrill let her stay beside him, snuggled against his shoulder, as he watched the fire in the hearth burn down to embers and the embers turn to ash.


End file.
